Do Not Consume If Pregnant
by 8NobodyKnows8
Summary: Basically England F's up a potion...big time. USUK   other random pairings
1. Chapter 1

HOLY ROMAN EMPIRE! You have no idea how long it took me to write this chapter! This is the first time I've written a series without Canada in it (then again, this is only my second series). This is also my first USUK fic, so be gentle. But yeah…Russia, why is it that you always make your way into my fics? (Lolz, my fics are one with Russia)

Anywho! I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters so don't sue me. Please read and review!

Arthur's cloak flowed to the ground. All around him were various relics and books, all detailed in cryptic writing that to many were lost in translation. A plethora of vapors filled the room, some intoxicating, others foul. All of which were emanating from a large caldron in the center of the room. Arthur stood over the bubbling liquid inside it, a book held firmly in his hand. Every so often, he would stir the fluid, afterwards his gaze would return to the book.

"Mint!" he called. A moment later, a green wingèd bunny popped out from behind a mound of papers and scrolls and flew toward him. "I need you to retrieve the lavender and thyme from the cellar."

Mint smirked and gave him a mock bow. "Anything else your highness?"

Arthur just rolled his eyes. "Yes and you can fetch the belladonna while your at it, now off with you." He watched the green ball of fur disappear and turned back to his potion. He began muttering to himself as he read the instructions. Digging in a small cabinet, he grabbed a small jar and opened the lid. "…And a pinch of mugwort. 'Warning: Do not consume if pregnant,'" he read aloud. "Well I hardly think the lad is pregnant."

Arthur's mind began to wander. _Alfred._ He was the only reason he was making this stupid potion anyway. He had tried so many other times to get the boy to understand his feelings for him, but he was just so dense! He had even gone so far as to ask the 'Frog' for advice. _God, I will never do that again._ The Frenchman had given him a long lecture on the art of love and had suggested many things that should not be repeated for the sake of ones innocence. But even so, Alfred remained forever oblivious, it was infuriating! And so, Arthur was reduced to this, his last resort: a love potion. _Ugh._ The very thought of it made him want to hurl. _So I can conjure demons from hell, but I cant tell one idiot that I love him? _It was more of a statement than a question. He cursed himself for not having the courage, but Alfred was anything but easy to read…at least when it came to serious matters such as this. Even after watching the boy grow up, Arthur still couldn't quite figure out what was going on behind that sunny and confident visage.

He was broken out of his thoughts when Mint came flying back with his ingredients. "Here you are gov," he said, handing Arthur the dried herbs.

"Thank you Mint," he said, ruffling the bunny's green fur affectionately. Arthur then turned back to the potion, adding the last of the elements.

The concoction bubbled, churning in a sloppy mess of mysterious brown liquids and oils, mixed together with chucks of god knows what and miscellaneous herbs. Overall, it did not look like your stereotypical love potion. Arthur sighed disappointed. Although he was well practiced in magic, he had never had the need to make a love potion before. Half of him had expected it to be some bright pink substance that smelled like happiness and sunshine, but this was far from the truth. He filled a flask with the goopy fluid, studying it's wretched coloring.

He went over the 'recipe' and few times. "It looks I've done it right. I followed the instructions to a 't'," he mumbled, running his hand across the worn parchment.

Mint perched on Arthur's shoulder wearing a skeptical expression. "It looks like the dinner you made last week."

"Hey, sod off!"

Mint chuckled and flew off, escaping the Brit's fury. When the creature was out of sight, Arthur turned back to his creation. He look idly at the flask in his hand. "I should probably test it out first, just in case something goes wrong…" _But who should I test it on?_ He racked his brain for potential victi- 'test subjects', going through several options. _I could try it on France, maybe it would kill him._ A devilish smirk found its way to his lips. "He's no good. That wanker shags anything that moves. There would be no way to tell if it worked." There was also the mechanisms of the potion he had to think about.

'After the potion has been ingested, the first living creature the drinker lays eyes on is the one they shall fall in love with'. "That could potentially cause some problems, especially since the effects are temporary…" _I could try Finland, but he's already in love with Sweden. There's Switzerland, who's romantically stifled, but always hangs around Lichtenstein…_Arthur shuddered at the thought. _That poor girl. What about…_

"That's it!" he said suddenly. "Italy's perfect!" The boy was always around Germany, that and they had yet to get together…

Despite his uptight (and pompous) exterior, Arthur himself was often times a hopeless romantic. Given that he had lived through the Victorian and Edwardian ages. And, the romantic endeavors of the two men (or rather lack there of) had annoyed him to no end. "Yes, that should work perfectly." But looking at the grotesque liquid in front of him, presented another problem. "How the bloody hell am I going to get him to drink this?" Just then an idea formed in his mind. It was risky, but it just might work.

-o-

Arthur walked down the brightly lit hallway, having traded in his musky robes fro a clean, tailored suit. He walked through the meeting hall, for once with a sense of purpose, making his away to the conference room. He nervously cracked open the door, slipping into the almost empty room.

It was mid-day, and golden light shimmered in through the large windows, warming the room with its pleasant glow. His eyes scanned the room for the victim of his experiment. Italy sat near the window, his head resting on the large wooden table in front of him, taking his afternoon siesta. Beside him, on the table, was a steaming cup of coffee. Arthur grinned. _Excellent…_He glanced around the space, seeing no one else, he casually made his way over to the sleeping Italian.

Arthur pulled a small vile out of his jacket pocket and carefully leaned over, emptying its contents into the man's drink. The mixture bubbled for a moment and odd color steam began to rise. He held his breath, hoping to god it wouldn't explode. When it finally settled down, Arthur let out a sigh, causing the Italian beneath him to stir.

"Ngh, E-England…?"

Arthur jumped back, attempting to act natural. "O-oh, Italy my boy, taking a little nap were we?"

The boy yawned, rubbing his eyes. "Is something wrong England? You seem a little weird." He cocked his head to the side, a touch of confusion crossing his features.

Arthur mentally cursed. When had Italy become this perceptive? He laughed nervously. "Why are you talking about? Everything is perfectly fine." Italy just stared at him blankly, and before he get the chance to speak, Arthur backed up in an attempt to escape. "Well this was a nice chat I'll see you at the meeting bye!"

Italy stared in confusion as he watched England walk away. Shrugging it off, he took his coffee in hand and decided to wait for Germany.

About 20 minutes later, people began to file into the conference room. Germany sighed seeing that Italy had fallen asleep…again. He took the chair to the right of him and began organizing his paperwork.

Italy woke to the light thud of someone sitting down. He looked to his left, recognizing the hazy figure that had sat next to him. Rubbing his eyes, he searched for Germany who was quietly sitting to his right. "Ve~ is the meeting about to start?" he asked sleepily.

"Yes, now sit up and make sure you don't fall asleep again, okay?" the German replied impatiently.

Italy pouted. "Ludwig's so mean~" Germany blushed lightly at the use of his human name, but brushed it off as the conference was brought to order. Italy just smiled at his friend's awkwardness and allowed his eyes to wander the room. He looked, once again, to his left, finally recognizing the man sitting next to him. He averted his gaze and tried to disregard the odd tingling in the pit of his stomach.

-o-

Throughout the meeting, Arthur attempted to ignore Alfred's obnoxious babble (which proved to be quite difficult, considering he was far too loud for comfort and too goddamn beautiful _not_ to look at). Instead, he directed his attention toward the bubbly Italian, who was but a few chairs away from him, looking for any changes in behavior. But much to his dismay, everything seemed to be the same as it always was. Arthur was (obviously) no expert on romance, but Italy didn't seem to be exhibiting any odd behavior. He sighed, giving up. _Perhaps the potion was a failure after all._ He wearily turned his attention back to Alfred, having thought his plan had failed.

-o-

Several hours later the meeting was drawn to a close and countless nations began filtering out of the room. Arthur attempted to hide his disappointment as he gathered all his notes. Although he was glad the potion hadn't caused any major mishaps, he also couldn't help but be rather peeved that it hadn't worked. It could have at least done _something_. Even if the boy had spontaneously combusted, that would have been at least a little entertaining. Arthur let out a mixture of a sigh and a giggle as he proceeded to leave the room. Much to his annoyance, he was broken out of his thoughts.

"Why so glum Angleterre~?" The obnoxious French accent rang through his head as France draped a lazy arm around Arthur's shoulders, which threatened to go for his waist.

Arthur was in no mood to start squabbling with the man. "Hands off, Frog," he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. France raised his eyebrow in mild surprise, but said nothing.

"Whoa, 'sup Iggy? No heads rollin' today?" Arthur turned to see America, soda in hand, striding gleefully up to the two.

The Brit fought back a blush as he watched Alfred 'innocently' begin sucking on the straw. "Don't talk to me in such a manner. I raised you better than that."

Alfred just laughed. "Yeah, and you also taught me to eat those nasty-ass scones you make. Three words: No. Fucking. Way."

"Oui, but now you'd rather eat those greasy, sorry excuse for food, hamburgers," Francis interjected slyly.

"Hey! Hamburgers are art on a bun! Don't dis the masterpiece. And…did you just _defend_ England's cooking?"

"Non, I'm simply saying that you inherited more than just his prude/idiotic mindset."

Bother America and England's face turned bright red. Alfred muttered a 'not cool' before Arthur exploded.

"Both of you can go fuck yourselves!" He threw his hands up in a loss for words, and stormed off. The other two watched as England slammed the door to the confrence room. France stifled a laugh and followed the angered Brit. Alfred just watched behind slightly worried eyes, and joined France out the door.

Outside the meeting room, in the lobby, Italy played with the hem of his shirt nervously. The rest of the nations were chatting lightly with each other, all making their own little groups, but Italy only eyed one. Butterflies twisted in his stomach. Why hadn't he noticed it before? He saw the man every day, so why was it different now? The small Italian inevitably found himself staring again. The nation was tall, powerful, unintentionally intimidating, often times cold, and yet somehow…_really_ attractive now.

Italy summoned the small amount of courage he had within him and made his way over to the blond across the room. His legs became heavy, his stride was hesitant and slow, and his hands began to shake. He tapped a broad shoulder, causing the other man to turn around. Italy opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Violet eyes looked down at him expectantly. "Da…?"

Italy launched himself suddenly at Russia, placing a light kiss on his lips. Russia's eyes grew wider as Feliciano's soft lips pressed against his own, but eventually he eased into it. They parted for a brief moment.

Russia looked at him with playful curiosity. "Become one, da?"

Italy nodded his head, blushing. "S-si…" Russia then brought their lips together again, much to the Italian's delight.

The room went dead silent. Every head in the area turned in shock toward the couple, a look of horror on every one of them. Both the quiet and their kiss was broken by a voice.

"Italy…" Feliciano whirled around to face Germany, who's eyes were consumed by hurt. Tension filled the room and all of it's inhabitants held their breath. From across the room, Arthur watched the scene, is jaw practically hitting the floor. One thought continuously ran through his mind: _Oh shit._

**Well, theres chapter one! Is it worth continuing? Please tell! Hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, first off, let me tell you I'm sorry for how long this took. Writer's block is a bitch and so were finals. Anywho, IT'S FINALLY DONE! (Granted it's rather short but whatever!)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or any of its characters (the world would be a scary place if I did) **

**I hope you enjoy it! Reviews are appreciated, thank you to all those who did.**

"Italy…"

Feliciano whirled around to meet Germany's hurt gaze. Ludwig stared at him for a moment, fists clenched, when Russia interjected.

"Did you need something Germany?" Russia wrapped a protective arm around Italy's waist, all the while smirking deviously. The small Italian looked worriedly between the two men. Their eyes were locked in a silent, but dangerous battle.

Despite his shaking hands, Germany spoke calmly through a tight jaw. "What are you doing with Italy?"

Russia chuckled. "What does it look like? I believe it is quite obvious, or have years of drinking that disgusting beer weakened both your liver _and_ your mind?" Germany let out a low growl, trying to avoid a senseless battle fight the man. Russia's grin widened. "Italy has agreed to become one with me. Do you not approve, comrade?"

"Italy…is this true?" Feliciano's eyes began to fill with tears. However, the smaller nation never left the Russian's arms, and eventually gave Ludwig a defeated look. Germanys eyes grew wide, looking from the tear-stained face of Italy to Russia's triumphant smirk. Without warning, he turned and walked away, wordlessly making his way down the hall. There was a moment of silence before Italy broke free and ran after him, finally finding his voice again.

"Germany! Germany!"

The majority of the other nations followed, eager to see how it would all turn out. Japan trailed worriedly after his friends, disregarding Romano, who roughly pushed him aside while heading in the same direction. He was either going to support his crying brother, or slap him silly for choosing Russia of all people…no one really knew. Hungary mumbled, "We have to see this," and pulled a notepad and pen seemingly out of nowhere, jotting down new ideas for a dirty fanfic she would probably write later. The rest of nations followed in a huge mob, trying to get a better look at what was sure to be the talk of the meeting once all was said and done.

Arthur stayed behind. Ever fiber of his being was freaking out, but being the 'gentleman' he was, he would never let that show. He dragged his fingered through his hair. Shit had most definitely hit the fan. "Oh, fuck me…"

"I thought you'd never ask~" France barely got the chance to slip a wandering hand around England's waist before he was harshly slapped in the face.

"Touch me again, and I swear by the Queen's good grace, I will rip your balls off." Arthur pushed away from Francis, his thoughts going a mile a minute. The abused Frenchman took on a look of fake hurt and suspicion and America popped out from behind the corner.

"Hey, you guys comin'? I swear Italy's lost his mind. I mean Russia, really?" Alfred shot the Russian a dirty look. "Seriously, what kind of mind-fuck drug is he on…?"

"Oh would you kindly sod off America?" Arthur felt as if he might explode. Quickly, he sped around the corner to join the rest of the group.

America watched as he ran off, shocked at the sudden outburst, feeling a little hurt. He hid that with a playful pout and turned to France. "Jeez, who shat in _his_ cereal?"

-o-

Italy ran down the brightly lit hall, chasing after Germany. Two feet down the hall and his lungs her already burning, but he didn't care. The only thing that was playing through his mind was how hurt his German companion had looked. How could he do this to him? But what exactly _had_ he done? He kissed Russia. Not only that, but agreed to become one with him as well. But why would that hurt Germany? They were just friends…weren't they? A million questions ran through his head that he needed to ask Ludwig.

Tears began to collect in Italy's eyes. "Germany! Germany, please stop!"

Ludwig kept running and pushed open the door tot he building. He couldn't bear to be in there anymore. Italy was with Russia now. He didn't nee him anymore. But he couldn't figure out why that hurt him so much. Italy may be an idiot, but he was still free to make his own decisions. So why did it hurt? Why did he feel like he could never look into those golden brown eyes the same way again?

His sweet voice rang through his ears. "Germany! Please!" He didn't have to look to know there were tears in his eyes. But he couldn't turn toward him. For the first time in his life, Germany wanted to run away. To surrender.

"Ludwig!" He stopped dead in his tracks.

Relief washed over Feliciano. He wiped a stray tear from his eye. He reached out a tugged on Germany's sleeve. "Germany…?" Ludwig turned around, a stern look in his eyes and a strong blush on his cheeks. "Germany why are you acting like this?"

The nation remained quiet.

"Germany ple-"

"Why Russia?"

"H-huh…?"

"Why did you kiss Russia?" Much to Ludwig's distress, a blush rose to Feliciano's features.

"Well…because I-…I think I'm in love with him." Those words rang through Germany's mind and his heart sank.

Various nations had gathered at the door and were now murmuring to each other. All that was missing was the popcorn…

Arthur watched this scene in horror. What had he done? This wasn't supposed to turn out like this! Germany was supposed to be with Italy, Russia was supposed to be…well, creepy, and if England had his way goddamn it he would be with Alfred! He thought back to how he had treated the American a few minutes earlier. _Why do I have to be such an arse?_ Guilt washed over him. He hadn't deserved that._ What would Japan call me? A 't-tsundere'?_ Putting that aside, the Brit directed his attention toward Germany and Italy once more.

Germany had turned away again while Italy held firmly onto his arm. "Ludwig, I don't understand. Why does it matter? Russia could never come between us, you'll always be my best friend-"

"Italy I don't want to be your friend!"

Judging by the look on his face, Feliciano's heart had broken right there. There were a string of loud gasps from the 'audience' as they watched the tears roll down his cheeks.

Ludwig had shut his eyes, is face in utter distress. "Italy…I cant be your friends anymore. I cant…" Without warning, Germany's arms encircled Italy, pulling him into a hug. He rested a hand on the back of auburn hair and brought the other man's head into his chest. The German clutched him possessively as he spoke to him in a low whisper. "I can't stand by and be your friend while you're in the arms of another man."

The crowed held their breath to see the boy's reaction. (Meanwhile, Austria and Spain were collaborating to create the cheesy, melodramatic underscore.)

Feliciano's eyes grew wide. "Germany I-" but before he could finish his sentence, the Italian was cut off when his lips were captured in a strong kiss. Almost every part of his body told him to pull away, utterly repulsed. Yet there was a spark in him that urged him forward, wanting to embrace the kiss. Waves of confusion washed over Feliciano as he fought with himself over what to do. To any other person, the smaller nation would have merely seemed shocked, however to Arthur (who had been studying the boy quite intently) saw something completely different.

The boy was at war with himself. The effects of the potion were working against Italy's true feelings, neither willing to give way. Despite himself, Arthur felt a twinge of sick intrigue. Real affection vs. forced affection… which one would win?

Somewhere in Italy's mind, he had a choice to make. Return the kiss, or reject it all together. But his mind was hazy, covered in a thick cloud, almost as if he were on drugs. His mind was blank, his vision completely blurred, and all he could do was feel. Swirls of emotions coiled within him, each one more powerful than the other, all derived from the heat of Ludwig's lips on his. Before he knew what he was doing, Feliciano pushed forward, allowing his mouth to be dominated by Germany's. It wasn't until their lungs burned for oxygen that the two parted.

The rest of the nations watched in awe, various coos of delight emanating from all of them. They all seemed to say the same thing: FINALLY!

Relief filled Arthur when Italy's final decision was made. So actual love overpowers the potion's effects…how corny, he thought to himself. England felt a soft smile creep onto his lips as he watched the hoard of nations gather around the couple, wishing them happiness and congratulations. Their faces were completely pink; embarrassed for the scene they had created. Prussia swung an arm around Germany's neck and tussled his hair, regardless of the fact he was shorter. "Well it's about time West! I was wondering when you'd grow a set and tell him!" This earned him a swift punch to the arm as Germany's face turned three shades redder.

Meanwhile Feliciano was being force-fed a torrent of rants curtsey of his big brother. But the little Italian heard none of it. In fact he looked rather pale. To Italy, the world was fuzzy and a mixture of extreme joy and horrid wretchedness. Germany had kissed him…and that was good. Not just good, fantastic! Wait no, it was bad. He was in love with Russia. But that wasn't right either. He had kissed the Russian but…why was that again. He couldn't remember. He was too dizzy.

A whirlwind of emotions spun through him, each contradicting the next. Unbeknownst to him, the potion fought inside him against his common sense, practically punishing him for his rebellious actions earlier. The feelings pushed and pulled within him. Bundling up. And without warning Feliciano turned around to the nearest bush, and puked.

Mkay, so there was a little (lot) more GerIta than UsUk…but I promise I'll fix that next chapter! I'm just glad I got it done! Holy shit man…*does a happy dance* Typing is a bitch.

**Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed it!**

**Oh, and I'm not gonna even start writing the next chapter until I get at least 5 more reviews…so please! Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, 3****rd**** chapter people! I'm trying to get better at posting faster, so please bear with me! Anyway, a huge thanks to all the people who reviewed, though I could always use a few more (hint hint, nudge nudge). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, quite obviously, otherwise I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. It would be a scary day.**

Germany rubbed small, comforting circles in Italy's back, his face wrinkled in worry. "Are you okay, Italy?"

The nation groaned. His stomach felt like it was attempting an acrobatic routine inside of his body. Feliciano turned his head to look at Ludwig and smiled weakly. "S-si," he nodded.

From behind him, Italy heard the unmistakable voice of America. "Yo, is everything alright?"

The Italian spun around, instantly regretting the action when he felt a wave a nausea rush over him. Germany stayed by him, keeping him steady. "Yeah, everything's fine. I'm just a little slight-headed, that's all."

America tilted his head skeptically. "You sure man? You seem kinda sick."

"Can you blame him?" Romano interjected. "I'd puke too if I had to suck face with that fuckin' Kraut!"

"Mi amor, you need to be nicer," Spain slipped an arm around the angsty Italian.

Romano pushed him off roughly. "Hands off, bastard!"

America just laughed. "Well if you guys need anything, just find me. Then again, its kinda hard to miss me," he said with a wink. Germany just rolled his eyes, while Italy nodded, shuffling closer to him. "Oh and Germany," the American added. "Congrats man."

Ludwig coughed in an attempt to hide his blush as he slipped an arm around Feliciano's shoulders. "D-danke…" Both Alfred and Feli began to laugh in unison.

England watched the scene from afar. He wanted nothing more than to be at America's side helping them, but he figured he had caused enough trouble for one day. Arthur ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. Looking to his right, he jumped, fighting back an unmanly squeal. Standing next to him was Russia; their proximity closer than England really cared for.

Ivan stared at the couple a few feet away with a truly creepy smile on his face. Without shifting his gaze, he said quietly, "So I guess this means I'm alone again, da?"

The question seemed as if Russia was speaking to himself, however, England sensed it was directed at him. Suddenly a wave of guilt and pity he didn't even know he could feel for Russia washed over him.

The Brit stopped and paled at the implications of it however. _Shit, he knows._ God knew what Russia would do to him now. In panic, Arthur shut his eyes and waited for impact to come. When he heard the rustling of fabric, he flinched, but became more confused when the sound got further away. Arthur opened his eyes, watching the scarf-clad nation making his way into the empty building behind them.

_Ballocks. Its one thing after the other isn't it._ Guilt consumed him yet again. "Quite the mess I've made…"

"Hmm, I figured you had something to do with this." Arthur jumped out of his skin when a hand was placed on this shoulder. His horror melted into disgust when he realized it was Francis.

"Are you making a habit of sneaking up people?"

France snickered. "You should learn to be more observant, Angleterre. After all, aren't you always boasting about your 'superior intelligence agencies'?"

"They _are_ superior. Though I find it ironic that you can even say the word intelligence considering you have none yourself," he replied dryly.

The Frenchman scoffed in disbelief. "I am perfectly intelligent, thank you!" He gestured to the whole of himself. "It just adds to my natural beauty~"

"Hardly. Considering all the blood flows to wrong head anyway."

"Whoa, did I just walk into a conversation I didn't want?" The distinctive blond ahoge bounced as America walked up to the group. His head was cocked to the side, like a confused puppy, with one eyebrow raised. Arthur fought down the blush that rose to his face. _Damn it all! _

Reading the atmosphere, Francis was the first to make a move. "Oh come now Amerique. You know you want some of this."

"I think it's the other way around, actually. Besides, a hero always saves himself for his damsel in distress. Though I was unaware Iggy was so interested in your junk." He said, turning his attention to the now red-faced Brit.

"I-I am not!" He stuttered. France interjected, completely ignoring him.

"He's just jealous he wasn't born with the sexy allure of a Frenchman. So he wants some for himself."

America laughed but England simply scoffed. "As if, frog-breath."

"Oh, then you'd rather have this fine piece of American meat?" Francis asked, seductively running his hand across Alfred's smooth chest, causing the man to concave uncomfortably. The American's blue eyes glanced up to meet England's green.

Unaware he could blush harder, more heat rose to Arthur cheeks, making him loose all capability to speak. He stood there dumbfounded, his mouth forming words that refused to come out. Stubbornly, he turned around and stalked off, muttering a string of inaudible curses under his breath.

America watched England go and sighed, a smile creeping onto his face. "Well it wasn't a no…"

-o-

Russia's scarf trailed behind him as he made his way through the unoccupied hall. Knowing he was alone, he allowed his happy visage to melt away. His eyes became dull purple and a frown etched itself onto his features. He was used to being alone. But he would be lying is he said he liked it that way. Russia's overall aura emanated unhappiness, a not-so nice change from him usual demonic one. Just outside the conference room sat a small bench, just big enough for two. Judging it to be a decent place to sulk, the nation plopped down lazily, pulling a bottle of vodka out of his coat.

Ivan took a large swig of the liquid, relishing in its burn as it traveled down his throat. He shifted in his seat. While it was unusually cushy, it wasn't exactly comfortable. Naturally when the bench squealed with the sudden movement, he realized why.

Ivan paused for a moment, looking around. When silence greeted his wanderings, he shifted in his seat once again, earning him another soft squeak.

This time, a small voice accompanied the sound. "Um, e-excuse me, would you mind moving over a bit, you're kind of sitting on me."

Surprised, the hulking nation moved over, allowing whatever he was sitting on to breathe. Ivan glanced over the young man. His petite frame began gulping for air while slender legs moved slightly to regain circulation. The man's face was hidden by gold, wavy locks, which seemed to frame his cheeks and jaw line, much in the same way France's did. The only difference was the singular defiant curl that protruded out in a way that begged for it to be touched. When he finally turned to face Ivan, light violet eyes met his. In a way, they were much like his own but more alive and…tender. The last and most distinct quality the Russian noticed was that the boy's features looked a little too much, if not identical to a certain annoying American he despised. This quality alone was enough to drive Russia away.

His signature smile forced his way onto his face as he spoke. "Ah, it seems I was not alone after all. I will be leaving now, da?"

Russia started to get up when the boy spoke again. "Oh, well you don't have to." A polar bear climbed up to join him on the bench and the blond ruffled the animal's fur affectionately. "We don't mind the company." He flashed Ivan a warm smile as he spoke, tilting his head in a positively adorable way.

Russia hesitated before sitting back down. He stared at the man inquisitively. Mirroring the head-tilting action, he asked, "Who are yo-"

"Canada."

Russia hummed in recognition. Apparently he got that question a lot. "Canada…I am Russia." Canada nodded in an all-knowing sort of way, so the Russian continued. "You wouldn't happen to be related to-"

"America? Yes, he's my twin brother actually."

Ivan's eye twitched. These interruptions were getting irritating. Though he found it odd. How had he not known America had a twin brother? Something like that should have been kind of hard to miss. He glanced at the boy in suspicion.

"I-it's okay if you don't remember me. No one really does. I'm used to the invisibility."

"Da." He said simply, deciding not to worry about it. Not that he would have to begin with.

Russia continued to take long swigs from the bottle he had almost forgotten was in his hand, turning his attention away from the other nation. The two sat in a lazy silence, neither one uncomfortable, just, there. Mid drink of vodka, Ivan stole a sideways glance at Canada. His big violet eyes moved from the bottle to Ivan. With a smirk, he offered the alcohol to him. "You want some?" he said, slurring the 'w' into a 'v'.

The Canadian meekly took the bottle and nodded. Ivan quite enjoyed seeing people (who weren't Russian) drink vodka. He found their disgusted faces rather amusing. Having expected the shy nation to merely sip it then give it back in distaste, his eyes grew to the size of golf balls when Canada threw back his head and chugged a good fifth of the bottle.

The smaller nation licked his lips in satisfaction, casting a sly grin in Ivan's direction. He chuckled. "What?"

"You drink vodka?"

Canada handed it back and ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, I don't drink so much anymore. I used to, ya know, during my 'rebellious teen' years, so to speak." He paused. "Not that anyone really noticed, but I went through a time when I just didn't care. I experimented with a lot of things, drank a lot…" The Canadian chuckled to himself in thought. "I wasn't on the best terms with Alfred at the time either. One time I got so plastered I ended up burning his White House to the ground." He laughed once more. "Those were good times…"

A smile crept onto Russia's face. _I like this kid._ "You sounded pretty, how would America put it, 'badass' back then. Why did you change?"

Canada's smile became a little tamer as he went back to stroking his bear's fur. "I guess I woke up one day and realized…I was just doing it for attention. I'm not the boisterous one, Al is. It just wasn't me."

"And what exactly is 'you'?"

"Um…_not_ boisterous?"

Ivan chuckled. "I like that."

Canada smiled warmly at that. "Thank you."

Russia smiled back and relaxed in his seat, his mood considerably better than before. _Canada is an interesting acquaintance. _

-o-

Arthur slammed the door to his house, not bothering to lock it. Throwing his belongings on whatever surface would hold them, the disgruntled Brit made his way to the basement. He was greeted by the hazy must that always seemed to linger in the room.

Looking around impatiently, he cried, "Mint!"

Out from behind a rather large wooden bookcase appeared the small green bunny. His ears were down as he flew cautiously toward the obviously angry nation. "Y-yes?"

"Where did you put the recipe for the love potion?" he asked snippily.

"Its where you left it!" Mint answered, his thick British accent rising in annoyance. Arthur sighed, not wanting to fight with the creature, and walked over to the large oak table near the center of the room. He grabbed one of the many books that lived on it and flipped through its pages until he came to one with a thick bookmark and familiar writing. His green eyes glanced at it once more before gently lifting the parchment out of its bindings and handing it to his flying companion.

England sighed yet again. "Put this in 'the pile' for me please."

The bunny nodded and did as he was told, placing the recipe in a rather large pile of…well, junk. 'The pile' was reserved for various spells, potions, and magical objects, which had either failed Arthur in the past or had proven too dangerous to utilize. Either way, the nation had vowed to never use anything in that pile ever again.

Flying Mint Bunny flew back to his master, perching delicately on his shoulder. He nuzzled Arthur's cheek. "I take it, it didn't go very well?"

England's saddened eyes looked down as he stroked the rabbit's soft fur. "No…" he said quietly.

Mint flew around to face him and placed a paw in Arthur's nose. "Hey, don't worry love. We'll figure somethin' else out," he cooed soothingly.

England placed his hands on the table in front of him, his brow crinkled in defeat and frustration. "No, I was a fool to think that it would work. I made a huge mess, and I still just ended up lashing out at him."

"Come now, the potion couldn't have been _that _bad," he said uncertainly. "Besides, didn't you test it out first?"

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "Ugh, yes. And what a _dandy_ day today's been."

Mint was silent for a moment and patted the nation on the shoulder. "Well, better luck next time, eh?"

Arthur hummed in response. He grinned at the sheer absurdity of the day as he reflected on it. "I cant believe I sunk that low. To think one would live to see the day when Arthur Kirkland actually tried to use a love potion."

"Love potion?" That question echoed through the air, and Arthur felt a mixture of fear and embarrassment shoot through him. He whirled around, only to meet the gaze of a very intrusive America.

England's jaw hit the floor and his cheeks turned a deep crimson. "How did yo- What are-"

Alfred threw his hands up. "The door was unlocked so I let myself in!" he hurriedly said, before his British companion could explode any further.

"What gives you the right to just come barging into my house? And into my basement no less!" Arthur folded his arms across his chest and waited expectantly for an answer.

"Well, I was just checking on you to see if you're okay, ya know?" Alfred's hand nervously made its way to the back of his neck as he spoke, pink barely reaching the surface of his cheeks.

"Gee, that's touching, but that still doesn't explain what you're doing in my basement," he replied dryly. "You know I never let you in here."

"Look, I knew you were home but you didn't answer when I called so I decided to look for you." America looked like a kid who had been caught with his hand inside a cookie jar. England smirked at his behavior, making the American eager to change the subject. "Anyway I came down here and saw you talking to yourself like a maniac. Off with your imaginary fairies, Iggy?" he grinned, regaining his swagger.

Arthur pouted in offense. "Fairies are real I'll have you know!"

"Uh-huh, along with the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny."

"Hey! They are both good people, take it back!"

"Whatever dude. Anyway what's all this talk about a love potion?" he asked, curiosity glistening in his eyes.

Arthur hesitated for a brief moment before sighing for what seemed like the millionth time that day. "Why do you even care America, you don't even believe in magic."

"I don't." Alfred grinned. "I just wanna know how senile old age has made you."

"I am not old you twat! And magic _does_ exist I'll have you know, you're just too naïve to see it!" England seemed to be moving closer to America with each word he said.

"I am not naïve or innocent by _any_ stretch of the imagination," Alfred said, grinning deviously. "And besides, you cant scientifically prove magic exists anyway!"

"Oh? Then how do you explain what happened with Italy today?" By this point, Arthur was practically in is face.

Alfred paused, realization seeping into him. He began stuttering, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. "That was you- No! There has to be a logical explanation for this-" Arthur placed a hand on his hips in satisfaction, a sly smirk playing on his lips, while America continued to babble. "-I mean Italy isn't the crunchiest chip in the bag, so god knows what goes on in his head!"

England raised an eyebrow. "You realize the irony of that statement right?"

"Huh?"

"Exactly."

"Fine, you know what, okay. Lets say you _did_ succeed in making a legit love potion…why the hell would you want Italy to fall in love with Russia?"

The older nation's cheeks flushed at having been called out on his mistake. "Well it wasn't supposed to work that way it just…got out of hand…"

Alfred's voice became rather quiet. "So what, did you want him to fall for you or something," he mumbled.

"What? No…" Arthur's gaze remained focused on the floor, unwilling to look his counterpart in the eye.

The atmosphere around them grew tense within a matter of moments.

"Then why'd you do it?" Arthur's head shot up to look at Alfred, who seemed just as interested in the floor as he had been. When he didn't answer, Alfred's voice rose a bit in volume. "Who're you in love with?"

Gazing at his former charge, Arthur was shocked. America looked him directly in the eye now, his expression serious. Blue orbs narrowed, trying to figure out the complicated puzzle that was England.

"America I-"

"France?"

England could have gagged right there. "You've got to be kidding."

"Well I don't know! I've never been able to figure you out! Even when I was little…"

Amidst the tension, Arthur laughed. His hand came up to his mouth as he erupted into an insurmountable fit of giggles. America, taken aback, frowned now completely confused. Still grinning wildly, Arthur shook his head. "_I'm_ the one who's difficult to understand? God Alfred, you're so dense…!"

"Jeez, if you're gonna be like that then…" The American turned to leave but stopped when a hand grabbed the sleeve of his jacket.

Arthur still wore a small smile, his gaze averted to the ground. The Englishman's pale cheeks were tinted pink and his voice was soft and controlled. "You're such an idiot…" His green eyes rose to look at Alfred. "…I love you," he whispered.

Seconds passed at a snails pace as the two stared at each other in silence, the only sound in the room was their breathing. Arthur closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his grip loosening on the others jacket. His eyes shot open when Alfred's lips crashed into his, his arms wrapping around the Brit's slender waist. Arthur melted into the kiss, standing on his tiptoes to put more force into it as he entangled his fingers in Alfred's hair. When they finally broke apart for much needed air, hot breath mingled due to the fact that they were still so close.

In between gasps for air, Alfred felt a smile spread across his features. "_I'm_ the idiot? You never needed to make a love potion, I already loved you."

These words were spoken with such a light and carefree air, yet Arthur didn't need help grasping their meaning. His face lit up, emotions overwhelming his very soul as he practically leapt forward, capturing Alfred's lips in yet another kiss. When they parted for a second time, the smaller man couldn't help but notice the excitement and anticipation gleaming in the others eyes. The arms around Arthur's waist tightened into a bear hug, pulling the two even closer so that their chests were flush up against each other. For once in his life, the island nation allowed himself to mirror the same foolish grin his American companion sported at the current moment, and laughed at his actions.

America stared at Arthur and his brilliant smile transformed into a seductive canine smirk as he spoke in low tones to him. "So does this mean I get to carry you romantically upstairs where we can fuck 'till the bed breaks?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and scoffed sardonically. "I'm not a sodding bride Alfred! You're _not_ carrying me." America barely had the chance to look disappointed before he was roughly grabbed by the collar of his shirt. "But I don't have any objections to going upstairs." A thick brow curved upwards and a predatory smile was formed on pink lips. A sexy, but ominous glow emanated from the older nation, something that in his excitement, America chose to ignore (_BIG_ mistake).

There was a moment of silence before mouths hastily met, with the clashing of teeth and the mingling of tongues. Clothes were frantically torn at, as if the very existence of the apparel offended them. A rhythm of lustful actions ensued and the couple made their way blindly up the stairs and down the hall.

All the while, Flying Mint Bunny was perched to the side, watching the scene in pure amusement. When the two nations left the room to release countless years of sexual tension, the green familiar simply grinned and inched toward the door. "Oh this is going to be good~"

~Omake~

Breathy gasps echoed through the room as the two collapsed onto the sheets beneath them. Even with their bodies caked in sweat, they didn't care as they scooted closer to each other. Arthur's pale arms wrapped around Alfred's torso while burying his face into the crook of the others neck. Both nations lay there clinging to each other, waiting for their breath to steady. When all became peaceful, Alfred scooted away so he could get a better look at Arthur.

The island nation smiled softly, his green eyes barely open from exhaustion. Wet hair clung to his cheeks, the whole of it wilder than usual.

Alfred chuckled, brushing the stray hair from his lover's face. This action caused Arthur's rather ethereal visage to tint a light crimson. Alfred began to chuckle even more, his laughter filling the room.

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he pushed himself up on his elbows. "What are you laughing at?"

"Dude, we just got done fucking each others brains out and you're blushing at something like that?"

"Damn Alfred, you manage to make that sound so romantic," Arthur replied, sarcasm dripping from every word.

The American flashed his a sly grin. "That's why you love me."

England fought back a smile as he punched America lightly in the arm. "Yeah, idiot."

"Ow! Jeez, I'm already not going to be able to walk in the morning and now this?" He pouted childishly. "You're such an abuser!"

"'That's why you love me'." He replied, doing his best America impression.

Alfred laughed. "You know it…though the fact that you can sound like me is kinda scary."

"Well I did raise you, I should know what you sound like by now."

Strong arms wrapped around the Brit once more, pulling him on top of him. "Doesn't this make you a child molester?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Alfred, you're over 18, and besides I don't think you had any qualms over it."

"Is that what you're going to say in court?"

"Oh sod off." Arthur stared down at Alfred, playful irritation melting from his features with a small smirk. "I love you git," he said.

"Love you too, old man." After a slap upside the head, England's lips pressed against America's and when mouths parted from the short but sweet kiss, the two drifted off to sleep.

Mkay! So, I totally would have had this out a lot sooner, but unfortunately for me I was stuck in a confined area with religious freak shows. That along with writers block and no computer = late chapter.

**Anyway, I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to continue this or not. So this may be the end. However, if enough people want me to continue, then I will. It just depends. So please review and tell me what you think…even if you think it sucks.**


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